


Reluctant Endeavors

by thelittlestpurplecat



Series: Reluctant Endeavors [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: A reluctant task, Falling In Love, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Stucky Navy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-20 13:13:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2430137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlestpurplecat/pseuds/thelittlestpurplecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers, a 26 year old Seaman in the US Naval Corps found himself cornered into a task that he wanted no part of. His superiors had growing suspicious of homosexual activities among the ranks of their seamen, and singled Steve out as a plant. His task was simple; to seek out anyone under suspicion, seduce them until he could provide solid evidence, and turn them over to his superiors for punishment. Steve wanted nothing to do with it. Not only was it wrong, morally, and ethically, but Steve, a closeted bisexual himself, found himself unable to say no for fear of being discovered and loosing everything he’d worked so hard to achieve.</p><p>Nothing could be worse then his task, that is, nothing, except falling in love with Bucky Barnes, and having orders to ruin him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The one bar on the naval base was quiet that night. It had the kind of dim, amber lighting, and rough wooden tables you’d expect to find in a bar, but it’s only occupants where men in uniforms, and an occasional nurse or doctor from the sick-bay. Steve had spoken to a few of the men already, but none of them had the right vibe. He had gotten very good over the years at picking up who was, or wasn’t interested in men. The he saw him.

He was sitting at the bar, his dark brown hair casually tousled, but not in a natural way, like he _wanted_ it to look like he didn’t care. The man’s eyes were hooded, and a lazy smirk played at the corners of his thin, pink lips. _This_ guy had the right vibe.

To be honest, Steve felt a little ill as he approached the other man at the bar. This wasn’t right. He couldn’t do this to another human being just because of who they loved! It wasn’t fair! But he told himself that he’d figure something out, a work around that would keep himself, or anyone else from getting in trouble, or even discharged. For right now though, he had to do his job and find out who liked what.

Steve sunk into the seat next to the other man, briefly taking in how nicely the amber light of the overhead lit the contours of his face. He was handsome, no denying that. “Evening,” Steve greeted him casually.

The man glanced over briefly and then dropped his eyes back to his scotch. He stopped, processing, for a moment, what he’d seen before turning back to him, that sleepy smirk spreading ever so slightly. “Evening,” He responded, seeming much more interested now. Steve had hit it right on the nose with this one. “Don’t think I’ve seen you around before, have I?” The man asked, and Steve shook his head, smiling faintly.

“Nope, New transfer. I just got here today.” He explain, pausing a moment before extending his hand. “Seaman Steve Rogers.” The man’s gaze dropped to the extended hand, and he reached out, his strong, boney fingers wrapping around Steve’s.

“Seaman Barnes. Bucky.” He added, in a slightly more casual tone, Steve nodding as Bucky released his hand.

“Bucky.” He repeated, committing the name to memory. “You been stationed here long?” Steve pressed, the question earning a short from the other man.

“Longer than I’d like,” He scoffed, taking a sip of his scotch. Steve hummed sympathetically.

“You got people waiting for you back home?” Bucky was shaking his head before the question was hardly out of Steve’s mouth.

“Nope.” He said, popping his lips quietly at the end of the word. “Just me. But hey, living alone is great. All that free space…all mine...” He said, smirking sarcastically. Steve slipped into an embarrassed silence. He had no intention of outing Bucky; he was _going_ to find a work-around, but still, fishing for information like this made him feel like a scumbag. He had wanted to get into the navy to _help_ people, not to get them in trouble or potentially discharged for their sexuality.

“Hey,” Bucky said, raising his voice slightly, and leaning in a little closer. Steve blinked rapidly, clearing his mind.

“Sorry, what?” He asked, and the look on Bucky’s face shifted back to an easy grin.

“I said ‘what about you?’” He repeated. “You got someone waiting for you? Family? A sweetheart?” Steve laughed softly, looking embarrassed that he’d missed the question.

“Uh…no…actually not. I lost my parents a few years back and I uh…recently find myself single. “ Bucky grimaced.

“Sorry to hear that.” Steve waved his hand absently.

“No, it’s fine. Actually, as break-up’s go it was…amazingly gentle…but no…She’s a swell dame though, we still keep in touch.” He explained, feeling a slight pang in his chest. Another time, another place, things really could have worked. But it wasn’t quite right, and Peggy’s life was taking her in a different direction, and it was _exactly_ the direction she had wanted to go. Who was he to ask her stay?

“Wish I could say that about some of my relationships…” Bucky muttered, draining the last of his dink. Steve glanced back over to him.

“Bad luck on the dating scene?”

Bucky scoffed, nodding emphatically, but beyond that, said nothing. He looked…bitter, like he was someone who had loved very hard and very fast, and had gotten burned from it one to many times. He seemed like a good guy. He didn’t deserve that.

“Let me buy you another drink.” Steve said, clapping him absently on the shoulder. And the gesture had nothing to do with his task.


	2. Chapter 2

For the next several days, Steve did nothing towards his reluctant mission. He didn’t speak to any of the men on the base…frankly; he hardly spoke to anyone at all. Certainly, it would be easy enough to tell his superiors that no one went for the bait, that it simply must be that there really wasn’t any illicit activity going on between the men on the base. Be would he really be believed? Was it worth the risk?

Steve found himself with a few blissful hours of freedom one evening and, though his current dilemma was still troubling him, he decided to take some time to himself, and work on a few of his sketches. Ever since he had been young Steve had loved to draw, and he’d gotten to be quite good. So now, he sat on a weather-beaten log away from the main base, and silently sketched the little, nameless, brown birds that fluttered in and around the trees.

The only time when the silence of the afternoon was broken was when someone would occasionally walk by. The birds would spook and fly away, but they’d always come back if Steve was patient enough. He learned to ignore it; and this was exactly why he didn’t even glance up when the birds took off in a flurry of motion, that was, until he heard the voice.

“Well, if it isn’t my drinking buddy, Seaman Rogers.” Steve blinked, turning to face the owner of the sleepy, snarky voice. Bucky stood just a few feet behind him. A faint smirk was etched on his lips as he took in Steve’s current position; hunched over his sketchbook, head craned back, gawking slightly.  Steve straightened, turning in his seat to face him.

“Seaman Barnes.” He greeted, nodding his head. The man scoffed slightly.

“Seriously though, Bucky’s fine. In fact, I prefer it.” He said, slinging one long leg casually over the log and taking a seat. He inclined his head towards the sketchpad. “Mind if I look?”

Steve surrendered the sketchbook, momentarily captivated by the appearance of Bucky’s hands. They were long, and slender, but undeniably muscular. Sinews and tendons lay close to the skin, shaping and accenting his hands in da vinci-esque beauty. He was a stunning man…he’d be the perfect subject…but Steve didn’t dare ask.

Bucky was silent as he flipped through page after page of Steve’s charcoal drawing. His head tipped to the side, he tongue sliding out to moisten his soft, pink lips before he spoke.

“Who’s this?” Bucky asked absently, and Steve leaned over, his shoulder brushing against Bucky’s as he peered at the page. A woman. A beautiful woman, with curled brown hair, and blood red lips, a look in her eye that warned the world that she was not to be trifled with.

“Peggy.” Steve said quietly. “Peggy Carter. She was my…uhm…we were together.” He finished, gesturing lamely at the drawing.  Bucky nodded his understanding.

“Your ex?” He asked, and Steve pursed his lips, nodding hesitantly.

“Yeah, I guess so…” Bucky fell silent again for several minutes, until he reached the end of the sketch books.

“So…that what you like huh?” He said, somewhat abruptly. Steve blinked, turning to his with a small frown drawing at his eyebrows.

“Sorry?” He asked, not quite sure he had caught his meaning.

“Peggys’. Marys’. Janes’.” Steve drew a hesitant breath, feeling his cheeks growing a little pink. He had never actually spoken to anyone openly about his bisexuality before. But his companion beat him to the punch.

“Or…do you like…Marks’, Jonathans’….Buckys’.” He added after a heavy pause. It was risky, he knew…but this guy…there was something different about him, something that made Bucky want to trust him. He had always been reckless with love, and it had gotten him hurt more than once, but if there was one thing that Bucky had never learned, it was how to take care of his heart.

Steve found himself swallowing hard, his gaze locked on the man he’d been ordered to lead on, make him love him, and then fork him over like a piece of meat to hungry dogs. The smart thing would have been to put as much distance between himself and Bucky as possible, but if there was one thing Steve had never learned, it was how to back down from a challenge.

“I…don’t mind Buckys’….” He said quietly, his gaze dropping to the other man’s lips. Those lips, those maddening, gorgeous lips, pulled back in an easy grin.

“That so?” He asked, dropping Steve’s sketch book back into his lap. Steve smirked, shaking his head.

“I guess it is.” He responded.

“I’d love to take you out on a proper date, but, if you haven’t noticed, we’re stuck on a tiny little naval base, so taking you out dancing is a little bit out of reach just now.”

“Well…we do have leave next weekend.” Steve said, rising to his feet. Bucky cocked his head to the side, something foxy, and teasing flicker behind those sleepily hooded eyes.

“Hmm…I guess you have a date then Seaman Rogers.”

It was as if suddenly, all the embarrassment and nervousness had gone. Something very natural had passed between them, something that made Steve feel like he’d known Bucky his entire life. He couldn’t say for sure that he loved him, but he couldn’t deny that there was something there.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the course of the next week, Steve forgot all but completely about his task.  He was much more focused on preforming his regular duties to the best of his abilities; making sure that their superiors would have no reason to cancel their leave.  His time off of the base had always been enjoyable, but this particular leave was much more important that the ones preceding it. He had a date.

Occasionally, though the week, Steve would let his duties slide for a few minutes, if only to find, and speak to Bucky, however briefly.  Bucky, was more than happy to volunteer some of his time.

Finally, at 1200 hours, Friday afternoon, the men on the base were released from their duties. They had 24 hours, during which time they were allowed to go out to a near by town and do whatever they pleased, providing they were back on site by noon the next day.

“So Stevie, you ready to cut a rug?” Bucky said, strolling over to him with a grin. Over the week, he’d dropped the mockingly formal ‘Seaman Rogers’ in exchange for ‘Steve,’ or, if he was feeling particularly snarky, ‘Stevie.’ The blond haired man grinned, shaking his head slightly. Really, he didn’t mind the nicknames.

“We’re not there yet Buck,” He reminded him, and Bucky made a shooing motion with his hand.

“Well come on then! We’ll catch a jeep. Don’t drag your feet on me now; we’ve been waiting for this all week. “

Steve dropped his head, an almost shy smile touching his lips. Really, he was touched to know that Bucky was excited for their date. Truth be told, he was too.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The dance hall was coming alive for the evening by the time Steve and Bucky stepped through the large front doors. Lamps glowed brightly along the cream-colored walls, music drifted through the air, and smartly dressed men and beautifully dressed women spun elegantly across the polished tile floor.  But despite these fancily clad dancers, Steve had eyes for only one that night.

Bucky turned sharply to face Steve, a smirk resting on his lips. He extended a hand out to the other man. “Dance with me?” He asked with a grin, already knowing Steve’s answer.

“I would be my pleasure.” He responded, taking Bucky’s hand as they stepped to the edge of the dance floor.  It was risky, he knew, dancing with another man in public, but they were out of uniform, so the hope was that they wouldn’t be recognized. Even then, some of the man danced with each other occasionally, almost as a joke, there was the chance that they could blend in with them.

As it turns out, Bucky was a phenomenal dancer. He knew all the moves and all the footwork, and where Steve tripped up, Bucky guided him through it with deft precision. Steve, who had had little opportunity to dance in year past, did his best to keep up.

Bucky drew him close, grinning in almost childish delight as he held Steve’s hands in his own, shifting with the footwork and guiding his date through the moves. Steve’s heel came down hard on Bucky’s toe and the other man gave a start of pain.

“Sorry,” Steve said earnestly, looking down to Bucky’s feet but Bucky waved it off.

“It’s fine, just try and keep those boats of yours to yourself okay Stevie?” He prompted with a grin, spinning Steve out before drawing him against him again, a little closer than the dance really demanded. Steve caught his breath, suddenly finding himself chest-to-chest with Bucky, the man’s deep-set, sleepy eyes staring at him intensely. He’s footwork faltered as Bucky came to a stop, and he froze, swallowing hard.  The music that had formerly drowned out everything now seemed to fade away entirely.

At that moment, something clicked into place for Bucky, and he gripped Steve’s hands tightly, abruptly pulling him out of the dance hall and onto one of the balconies on the side of the building.

The evening and grown cool around them as dusk crept up on the sailors. The sky, had gone from a beautiful robin’s egg blue, to pink, and orange, fading to a coal-dust gray that started at the apex of the sky, growing darker the farther to the east it stretched. Snippets of conversation drifted up to the balcony from the street-goers below, but it seemed faint, tiny, and unimportant.

“Bucky?” Steve asked uncertainly as Bucky closed the door heavily behind them. He stood there for a moment, hands pressed against the door, his back to Steve. And then he turned, a small genuine smile on his lips. He strolled over to him, trying to maintain his confident, flirty swagger, but looking more like a nervous little boy trying to show off for his crush.

“You were doing pretty good in there,” He started, feeling a fluttering in his chest that he couldn’t seem to squash out. He gave a slight scoff. “And you told me you weren’t a good dancer. Steve dropped his head, a small smile touching his lips. He looked back up, meeting Bucky’s eyes evenly.

“I said I didn’t dance much.” He replied, seeing that gorgeous smile lit his companion’s features once more.  Could this really be happening?

Bucky fell silent for a moment, just drinking in Steve’s appearance. With the coming darkness, Steve’s normally bright blue eyes seemed to go black, deep, and reflective; like a mirror. The amber light flooding from the dance hall’s windows lit off of his smooth, un-mussed blond hair, highlighting also the strength of his jawline and the sharpness of his cheekbones. He was stunning.

“Steve…” Bucky began hesitantly, stepping closer hesitantly. “I wanted to…I had something I needed to…” The dark-haired man stopped, collecting his words. All traces of the confident swagger had disappeared, leaving in it’s wake a man who had too much going on in his heart to easily put it into words. “Is it too early to tell you that I’m crazy about you?” He blurted abruptly, looking up to meet his gaze. The expression on Bucky’s face was open, and honest, with no reservations. He meant what he said; there was no mistaking that.

Steve blinked, momentarily stunned. Since meeting him, and over the past week they had spent together, Steve had grown to enjoy Bucky’s company. He loved talking to him, loved hearing Bucky speak so honestly about his feelings and experiences. He had spent more time than he’d like to admit marveling over the other man’s beauty, and still, Bucky’s question caught him off guard. The longer Steve was silent, the more Bucky’s face fell. The expression of hope that had lit his features slowly darkened as he dropped his gaze. He didn’t look angry…just…sad…

“No.” Steve said suddenly, everything seeming to fall into place. Bucky looked back up to him, confusion flickering in his gaze. “No,” He said again, stepping closer. “I-I don’t think so at all…” For a second, that look of childish excitement phased across the other man’s face before he masked it quickly, his expression taking on his trademarked look of sly, sleepy flirtation.

“Is that so?” He asked, smirking as one hand slid to the back of Steve’s neck. Steve raised an eyebrow at him.

“Sure, question is, what are you going to do about it?” He asked. Bucky grinned as his date sassed him back.

“Dunno…I thought about maybe kissing you.”

“No complaints from me.”

Bucky leaned in, his expression phasing from flirtation, to excited, to anxious in a span of seconds. He slid his tongue out slowly, licking his lips with an air of nervousness surrounding him.  Steve felt his heart hammering in his chest as Bucky drew closer. His breath was hot on his lips, and the musky, camphorous scent of his cologne met Steve’s nostrils.

A heavy pause hung between them for a moment before, as if by some unspoken decision, the two moved forward, Bucky’s lips pressing to Steve’s. In an instant, anything about the world surrounding that hadn’t already been forgotten was out of mind. There was more than enough for Steve to focus on right in front of him.

Bucky’s lips were soft, and chapped against his own, warm, and ever so slightly damp. His palms, somewhat sweaty from the tension of the moment, came up to cup Bucky’s jaw in his hands, drawing him closer as he tipped his head to the side. Bucky, his heart racing, smiled into the kiss, his nose brushing against Steve’s as he too shifted closer. With one hand still resting on the back of his partner’s neck, Bucky allowed his other hand to slid down to Steve’s waist, moving around to his lower back and drawing his hips against his own.

After a long moment, their lips reluctantly parted. Steve, unaware that he had been holding his breath, found himself feeling shaky. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the much-needed oxygen. Bucky still held him close, their faces mere inches apart as he studied Steve’s expression.

“Okay?” He asked breathlessly, allowing his hand to slide away from his lower back and drop to his side. Steve nodded wordless, feeling a little stunned.  “Have you ever...” He started hesitantly, “kissed a guy before?” This comment earned a little shake of his head, his eyes still locked on Bucky’s as though thinking if he stared deep enough into them that he would find the answer to a question that he needed desperately. Truth be told, Steve wasn’t even sure what that question was.

As the world seemed to come back up to speed, Steve swallowed hard, his gaze flickering behind Bucky to the still closed door to the dance hall. Music and light still drifted through the crack even though it had grown dark around them.

“They’re…playing the waltz in there…” He said quietly.

“You know that one?” Bucky asked, stepping back just a half step to give Steve a little space.

“Only dance I’m really good at.” He said, smiling faintly. “If you want, I’ll lead.” Steve offered, extending a hand, just as Bucky had done from him earlier that same night. Bucky returned the smile, taking Steve’s hand and allowing him to guide his other hand to his waist. Steve closed the distance between them, leading Bucky slowly through the steps, his face turned in against the side of his companion’s neck.

Softly, and without being asked, Steve began to quietly sing the words under his breath, the sound of his voice meeting Bucky’s ears. They danced together, in secret on the balcony for what seemed like a lifetime; Bucky’s hand on Steve’s waist, swaying to the music as Steve whispered the words into his ear.


	4. Chapter 4

Only the glowing street lamps lighted the streets by the time the two men left the dance hall. All the color and light and gone from the sky, but it couldn’t have mattered less.

Bucky’s hand was hot in his as they walked along. The shops along the lane had all close and all the passersby, save for a few, had gone home, so Steve felt relatively at easy holding Bucky’s hand in the open like this. His dark-haired companion had been chatting to him as they walked along, although now, he had lapsed into a comfortable silence.

Steve blinked, looking down as Bucky raised their joined hands. He pulled Steve’s hand close to him and pressed his soft lips to the back of his knuckles. A gentle smile tugged at Steve’s lips as the pattern of their footfalls faltered, and then ceased altogether. Bucky’s finger’s twisted carefully into a new position and he turned Steve’s hand, pressing another kiss to the inside of other man’s wrist.

Over the course of the evening, Steve had grown to expect these little gestures of affection from Bucky.  He had often stopped him for the sole purpose of brushing his calloused fingers over Steve jawline, to muss his fingers absently through his hair, to touch a soft kiss to the side of his neck. And as quickly as Steve had grown to expect them, he’d also grown to love them.

He stood there now, smiling as Bucky gently kissed his knuckles and wrist, both of his hands now cupped around Steve’s. He stepped closer, closing the distance between the two of them and lifting Bucky’s face up to his. Bucky smirked, but there was far too much pure adoration in his eyes for the look to be considered flirtatious.

“It’s a little late to make it back to base…” Bucky murmured, his lips brushing softly against Steve’s as he spoke. A quiet bark of laughter escaped Steve as he nodded his agreement.

“What are you thinking? Wanna get a place in town?” He asked, his hand resting on Bucky’s lower back, feeling the gentle curve of his body beneath his palm. He tipped his head to the side, his eyes locked on Bucky’s. A mischievous glint lit his companion’s gaze, his ever-present smirk growing a little more pronounced.

“You wouldn’t mind that?” He asked, trying desperately to sound cocky, but the tone in his voice was simply hopeful. Steve gave a little scoff, as he righted his head once more.

“Nah,” He said casually, shrugging his shoulders. “Could be fun.”

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

            The door to the small hotel room creaked reluctantly as Bucky pushed it open. He strolled in, dropping casually on the bed, flicking on the lamp and crossing one leg over the other. He looked positively regal.

            Steve smiled faintly as he stepped in after him. There wasn’t much special about the hotel room. It was one room, with a double bed, a stained carpet, and a bathroom that could have been mistaken for a broom closet. But it didn’t matter, to Steve, and apparently to Bucky as well, it was a palace.

            Bucky lay back on the bed for a few minutes, just studying Steve, taking in the contours of his face and body in the uncertain light of the single hanging bulb. Steve suddenly felt the nervousness and embarrassment that had hidden until now begin to resurface. Bucky’s eyes were combing hungrily over his body, his tongue sliding slowly over his teeth. There was something decidedly erotic about the stare, and Steve felt his pulse being to race.

"What?" He asked, trying to cover his shyness with a smirk. The endeavor wasn’t very successful. He knew that his dark-hair companion could see the flush in his cheeks, and he was almost certain that he’d be able to hear his hammering heart from all the way over on the bed. Bucky pushed himself back up, perching on the edge of the mattress. He didn’t answer Steve, not just yet. The other man rose to his feet, strolling casually across the tread-worn carpet until he was standing directly in front of him.

"Nervous Stevie?" He asked, smirking at him. Steve swallowed hard, allowing his back to rest against the peeling wallpaper, allowing Bucky to close the distance between there bodies. He thought about scoffing off the comment, brushing it aside with a snort and a shake of his head. But the truth was, he  _was_ a little nervous…or maybe…excited…

"Little bit." He admitted, his tongue sliding out to moisten his lips. Bucky’s gaze dropped, following the movement, his smirk pulling into a grin.

"Hey, you said yourself, could be fun." He teased, pressing his hip’s against Steve’s.  _Oh god._

Bucky leaned closer. Just as in the case of their first kiss, his lips hovered a few centimeter’s from Steve’s, waiting, maybe teasing, he wasn’t sure. With on hand rested on Steve’s waist and the other on his chest, Bucky could feel his companion’s heart pounding, mimicking the rhythm of his own. Steve was breathing heavily, his eye’s half closed, craning for the kiss that Bucky was keeping just out of reach. 

Finally, he surrender the kiss, surging forward and pressing an open-mouthed kiss to Steve’s lips. His hands came up, tangling through his normally neatly-kept hair. Bucky pressed closer, his chest and hips pressed against him, his fingers gripping passionately at Steve’s soft blond hair.

A soft gasp escaped Steve at the abruptness of the kiss, but he was very quickly learning that Bucky was a very fierce and intense lover. All week now Steve had wondered what it would be like to run his hands over Bucky’s firm, muscular body, and now the opportunity was too close to pass up. He allowed his hands to wander down Bucky’s chest, and waist, feeling his solid muscles tense beneath his soft skin. Bucky uttered a low growl of pleasure,as his hands slide down his waistband, Steve’s fingers brushing lightly over his hips.

Bucky freed his hands from Steve’s, now tousled, blond hair, moving them down to the hem of Steve’s shirt. He gripped the material in tightly bunched fist, yanking the shirt up and over Steve’s head as the other man clumsily undid the buttons on his trousers.

Bucky shrugged his own shirt off, pressing his body, already hot with pumping blood, against Steve. Steve’s chest was heaving, his hand’s shaking with anticipation as he slid his hands over Bucky’s firm ass, the trousers sliding off of the other man’s muscular thighs. He had just begun to pull at the waistband of Bucky’s boxer’s when the dark haired man abruptly pulled him away from the wall. He turned Steve sharply, before surging forward and pinning him down on the coarse, creaking mattress. The weak bed frame shuddered as the two men landed roughly, Bucky’s mouth locking with Steve’s, his tongue pressing between the other man’s lips. Steve turned his head, leaning forward hungrily. A shudder passed through him as Bucky’s hot wet tongue slid across his own, teasing him, driving him crazy. 

There was one moment, barely the span of a heartbeat, when Bucky held the kiss, and then he pulled back, gasping softly, staring down at him. Steve blinked, suddenly dazed by the abrupt cut of contact. Silence stretched between them, eyes locked, chests heaving.

"Are you okay with this?" Bucky asked suddenly, his words a little hindered by the shortness of his breath. Steve’s brown drew into a frown, confusion written on his features.

"Yeah," He responded breathlessly. "Yeah, of course I am…are you?" Bucky nodded, swallowing hard, licking his lips nervously.

"Yeah…I just thought…I remember you said you’d never…well…I just didn’t know if you would have wanted  _me_  to be your first time…w-with a guy at least…” He explained, looking a little ashamed of himself, feeling already as if he had pushed Steve further than he’d have wanted to go.

Steve caught his breath, steadying his shaking hands. He reached up, cupping Bucky’s face in his palms, feeling his strong jaw-line against his warm skin. “Buck, you’re the first guy I’ve wanted to do this with,” He said, smirking faintly. Bucky looked up, meeting his gaze again with an uncertain, lopsided smirk.

"You’re sure then?" He murmured, tipping his head to softly kiss his throat. 

“‘Course…” Steve whispered, feeling a flood of affection for the other man. Truth be told, he had been nervous at first, but that feeling was gone now. He wanted Bucky, more than anything, and for more than just this. He wanted to be the one who took Bucky dancing. He wanted to be the one who exchanged kisses with him in the middle of the night, who got to wake up beside him. He wanted to be the one to make breakfast for the two of them, he wanted to be the one to make a home with Bucky. He wanted him...and suddenly, knowing that he loved him wasn't frightening at all. 

"Really sure?" He pressed again, kissing further down his neck, sucking a mark onto Steve’s skin just below his collar bone. Steve frowned slightly, his feeling of affection shifting towards comical annoyance. 

"Yes, Buck. I’m sure." He clarified, wonder what he was up too.

"Mmmmmhhh…" Bucky purred, his hot, sweaty hands sliding down Steve’s chest as he worked his mouth further down his body. His fingers moved deftly, undoing the buttons on Steve’s trousers and sliding them off his hips  "Positive?" He whispered, nipping at the waistband of Steve’s boxers and pulling at them with his teeth, that infuriating smirk still play at the corners of his mouth.

Steve tried to swallow back the soft moan that pushed against his lips with little success. God…Bucky was trying to drive him crazy! “Yes!” He said his body flooding with a sudden sense of urgency, “Yes, okay? I’m positive!” He gasped, his voice wobbling slightly at the end of the sentence as he gripped his fingers through Bucky’s unkempt dark hair. He could feel Bucky’s smirk against his skin before he turned his face up to look at him, a sneaky, devilish grin playing on his lips. Steve swallowed hard, realizing that that wasn’t going to be the last time that Bucky made him beg. 


	5. Chapter 5

Steve awoke, for the first time in a long time, to the feeling of another warm body against his own, and he had to admit, it felt pretty incredible. Bucky lay with his back against Steve’s chest, the rest of his body aligned perfectly with his. Steve’s right arm, still trapped beneath Bucky, had gone completely numb, but he really couldn’t have cared less; it was enough to be able to feel his other arm wrap around his lover’s chest, their finger’s still intertwined. 

The blond haired man shifted slightly, not enough to stir Bucky, but enough to get a good look at him. He looked like an angel. His dark hair was tousled over his eyes, which remained closed, peaceful, and content. His chest rose and fell evenly, the pattern of his breathing synced with Steve’s. A gentle smile touched Steve’s lips and he leaned down, softly kissing the other man’s temple. Somehow, it wasn’t so hard to believe that he’d fallen in love with him…

Bucky shifted sleepily, one eye cracking open, the mattress creaking as he moved. “Hey…” He murmured, his voice thick from sleep.

"Morning," Steve respond, as Bucky reluctantly returned to consciousness. Bucky freed his hand from Steve’s reaching up and brushing strands of Steve’s unkempt blond hair away from his eyes. He just lay there, his fingers brushing across his hair and temples, smiling up at him. Bucky had never seen anything quite so perfect as the sight of Steve lying there next to him. 

After a moment, Bucky leaned up, touching a sleepy kiss to his lips before dropping back to the pillow with a muted  _thump._ "How are you feeling?" He asked, continuing to mess his fingers absently through his hair. 

"Little sore." Steve admitted. "You?"

Bucky managed a cocky little smirk. “‘Bout the same.” He said.

"Yeah, sorry about that." Bucky exhaled through his lips, his eyes rolling back into his head.

"You don’t need to apologize Stevie," He scoffed, sitting up and tossing the sheets off. "It was fine. It was…it’s was good." Bucky said, sliding of the bed and turning back to look at him with a smirk. Steve blinked, having gotten a little distracted as Bucky stood up, the pale morning sunlight highlighting every contour of his muscular, naked body. 

As Steve pulled himself together, Bucky opened the bathroom door, stepping in and studying his reflection in the mirror. 

"Dammit Steve…" Bucky muttered under his breath, Steve freezing half-way through getting his trousers back on. 

"What?" He asked, clumsily fixing the buttons and walking over to the still open doorway. Bucky met Steve’s reflected gaze through the mirror, a playful scowl on his face. 

"What am I supposed to do about these?" He demanded, tipping his head back to reveal the mark’s Steve had left on his neck, collar, and jawline. Steve couldn’t suppress a grin.

"I don’t know," he murmured, stepping directly behind him, his hands creeping to Bucky’s waist. "Get a little creative, Barnes. I hear ascots are in this season." He teased, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades.

A soft groan escaped Bucky, but he did his best to disguise it as a moan of disgust. “ _You’re_  an ass…” He murmured weakly, feeling Steve’s fingers press into the bruises on his hips from the night before, sending a buzz of pleasant pain through his body. Steve smiled faintly at the jab, kissing softly behind Bucky’s ear.

"Or," He started again, "You could just tell the fellas back on the base that you got them while you were on leave; let them jump to their own conclusions." Bucky smirked, turning around fully, guiding Steve’s hands back to his waist. 

"And then I can tell them all about the blond haired, blue eyed doll I danced the night away with, huh?" He asked, tipping up his face with a smug, confident, smile on his pink lips. 

"Doll?" Steve scoffed, the grin still dancing on his features. 

"Sure," Bucky said, his hands sliding down Steve’s lower back. "You’re too pretty to be anything else." He teased, before jabbing a finger against Steve’s chest. "You have to admit, I have a point."  

"You think I’m that pretty huh?" Steve asked, squinting playfully at him. Bucky flashed him a grin, and slipped past him, strolling back into the main room. 

"Sure I do," He said, scooping his boxer casually up off the floor and tugging them on. "I told you I was crazy about you didn’t I?" Bucky asked, suddenly seeming a little less teasing, a little more honest. 

Steve leaned his weight up against the door frame. “Yeah,” He said quietly, a small smile on his lips. “You mentioned.” Bucky turned to face him, still trying to keep his expression light, but there was a searing curiosity burning in his eyes.

"So what is this to you?" He asked, not sure he really wanted to know the answer to the question he was asking. Often time, the answer hurt more than he anticipated. "Do you…I mean…Are we actually going to do this? Or…is this a…one night stand in a random hotel room kind of deal?" 

Steve blinked, stunned by the question, stunned by the nervous tone in his voice. How many times had Bucky asked that same question, and had been told that it meant nothing?

"Are you asking me if I’m in love with you Buck?" Steve pressed, leaning away from the door jam and walking over to him. Bucky shrugged absently, dropping his gaze away, his face going pink with embarrassment. 

"Sure if you wanna put it that way…" He mumbled, and Steve could see him already preparing for the answer he’d gotten so used to receiving. 

Steve swallowed hard, realizing that admitting this to Bucky, admitting it to himself…it was going to change everything. The blond haired man drew in a steadying breath, everything he wanted to say jarring around in his mind. There was so much, but he couldn’t still one thought long enough to put it into words.

 Finally every settled, and suddenly, Steve felt a moment of complete clarity. The words weren’t perfect, nor where they the confession he thought Bucky deserved, but it would have to do.

 "I wouldn’t be here if it didn’t mean something to me Buck…" He confessed, his voice soft, and uncertain. Bucky’s head snapped up, a look of disbelief written across his features. Steve got the distinct impression that this wasn’t the answer Bucky was used to receiving. Bucky gapped at him for a moment, before closing his mouth, swallowing hard. He attempted to restore his casual, cocky grin to his face, but it looked weak, and almost shy.

 "You say’n you’re sweet on me Stevie?" He asked, twisting his shirt unconsciously in his hands. Steve walked over, his heart in his throat. 

 "Little more that sweet on you I’d say…" He murmured, his hand sliding to the back of his lover’s neck and staring him earnestly in the eyes. Bucky wet his lips uncertainly, trying to process this information. It had been so long…so long since anyone had reciprocated his affections that he suddenly wasn’t sure what to do with the love he was receiving in return. And so, Bucky did the only thing his stunned mind was screaming for him to do; he kissed Steve.

 The kiss was deeper, softer, and more earnest than any of the ones that had passed between them the night before, and Steve felt his heart break for the other man. He loved so much, so fast, and so deeply, and never seemed to have it returned to him. And if anyone deserved all the love in the world, it was Bucky. And it was just that that Steve wanted to give to him.

 It was at that moment that Steve knew he had to tell him. He couldn’t lie to Bucky, not ever. Even if he had never meant to report Bucky, he still knew he had to tell him. There was simply no other option. 

 Bucky pulled back, blinking rapidly as he swallowed hard. He parted his perfect, perfect lips to speak, when suddenly he froze, his mouth gaping slightly. “God!” He started, stepped back away from him, Steve staring on, stunned at his partner’s sudden franticness. “God, Steve, get a shirt on!” He said, swiping it off of the floor and hurling it at his chest. “We have to be back on base in an hour, Go!” He said urgently, struggling his own shirt on over his head. 

 The word’s registered slowly with Steve embarrassingly slowly. He stared dumbly as Bucky scrambled around the hotel room, snatching up anything that belonged to them. It didn’t seem right to have to rush right back to work after last night, it didn’t even really seem possible. Finally he shook himself out of his daze, pulling his shirt on and helping Bucky put the room back in some semblance of order.  

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The two men, once stranger, now lovers, reported to the base with minutes to spare. But even the rush couldn’t make Steve forget about the unpleasant reality he had to face with Bucky. He didn’t know how to broach the subject, or how Bucky would react to the nature of his assignment, but one thing was certain. It wasn’t going to be good.


	6. Chapter 6

If Steve had ever brushed aside the phrase ‘Wrong place, Wrong time,’ He deeply regretted it now. No matter how often he got to see Bucky amidst their routine work on the naval base, no matter how often they snagged a few precious minutes to talk, hold hands, kiss…the time was never right. 

Steve had begun to feel restless now whenever he was near his companion. His palms would go sweaty, and the playful banter that they spun between them would get caught on his tongue whenever he remembered the lie that their relationship perched so precariously upon.

Maybe Steve was fearful. Maybe he was just terrified of loosing Bucky. Maybe if he loved him more the truth would hurt less when it eventually came out. Whatever the reason, weeks past, and Bucky was still unaware of Steve’s mission.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Bucky was growing concerned. For a short time, life, even on a naval base, had seemed like heaven. Steve  _loved_ him. Really  _loved_ him. But recently, the blond hair man had been refusing to meet his gaze, there had been something reserved about the way he responded when Bucky kissed him now. Come to think of it, Steve had almost stopped initiating the contact altogether, although he didn’t deny it when Bucky offered. It was as if he were ashamed.

‘ _Steve has nothing to hide from me…’_  Bucky had to convince himself daily. ‘ _He loves me. He’s just busy. He must have a lot on his mind. He loves me…he loves me…”_

_.-.-.-.-.-.-.-._

"Hey Stevie!" Bucky called, grinning, trying to force a casualness he didn’t truly feel into his voice. Steve looked up from the open hood of the jeep he was working under, a tired smile tugging on his lips. He looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept in days. Bucky strolled over, folding his arms over his chest, and leaning casually against the jeep. "You look beat." He commented.

Steve straightened up, managing a soft little laugh. “Been working late the past few nights.” He lied, not wanting to admit that the dishonesties that where piling up between them were costing him his sleep. 

"How ‘bout a break then?" Bucky offered. Maybe Steve felt he was being neglected, maybe he just needed to pay him a little more attention. Bucky swallowed hard. He had tried not to let himself think that maybe the disconnect was his fault, but still…Steve  _had_ to know. He  _had_ to know how much he loved him.

"I dunno Buck, I was supposed to get this jeep fixed up by noon."

"It can wait," Bucky said, brushing aside the task like it was nothing. He gave a little scoff. "You know how many jobs  _i’m_ ditching right now?” 

Steve frowned uncertainly. “Bucky…” He said, a tired, warning tone in his voice. “You shouldn’t do that, you could get in trouble, people would ask questions…” he pressed. The  _last_ thing Steve wanted was for Bucky to get in trouble on account of him. How ironic. 

Bucky snorted, grabbing Steve’s wrist, ignoring the grease smudges on his hands. “Deed’s done now,” He joked lightly, ignoring the pounding in his chest. “Come one, just a few minutes.” He insisted. “you look like you need to relax.”

Steve smiled tiredly, allowing his guard to lower just a little bit, allowing the guilt that scream in his head to be merciful silent. “Okay,” He agree, smirking faintly. “Just a few minutes.”

Bucky grinned, pulling him away from his work, the two men stealing across the grounds until Bucky pulled him around behind a building. The stone wall was rough against his back and Bucky pressed him against it, the dark-haired man’s lips already meeting his own. 

Steve responded to the kiss, his hands moving, one to pull Bucky’s head closer, the other to rest on his back. His lips were just as soft as the first time they’d touch his own, and he still smelled like musky cologne, but the feeling of the kiss had changed now. It was laced with desperation. 

"I love you," Bucky murmured fervently between kisses. His eyes were squeezed tightly closed, his fingers gripping at the material of Steve’s shirt. Steve could feel the fear coursing through his body. It made his stomach turn to realize that  _he_  had done this too him. He had hoped that Bucky hadn’t noticed the change in his behavior, but Bucky  _had_  noticed, and the change terrified him. 

Steve leaned in, Bucky feeling his regret as acutely as Steve felt his desperation. Their feeling where know to each other, but not spoken. Steve  _knew_ that Bucky was desperate, and frightened. Likewise, Bucky knew Steve was regretting something, regretting something  _very_ deeply, but neither had had the courage to speak openly about it.

At that moment, all Steve wanted to do was calm Bucky’s fears, assure him that he was wanted, that he was deeply loved. Assure him that Steve wanted nothing more than to be able to be with him from now on to every moment to come. 

Steve drew his lover in closer, his greasy finger’s leaving black smears on Bucky’s pale skin as the other man went weak under his touch. The fight had gone out of Bucky, and it was all he could do to lean into the kiss, to rest his hands on Steve’s neck, and to soak up the love that he couldn’t be sure how much longer would be his to have. 

It seemed an eternity before Steve softly broke the kiss, his lips still brushing against Bucky’s as they caught their breath. Slowly, Bucky allowed his eyes to open, staring earnestly at Steve. “Don’t leave me…” He rasped softly, as note of childish desperation in his voice. 

Any part of Steve’s heart that hadn’t already broken for Bucky shattered at that instant. “No,” He murmured softly, running his finger’s through his hair, leaving grease streaks behind in the smooth dark locked. “No, of course not Buck…I’m not gonna leave you…I’m right here.” He managed a little laugh, tipping Bucky’s face up to his. “Hey, I’m crazy about you remember?” He prompted, and Bucky managed a weak little smile, his eyes still haunted with uncertainty. 

He leaned in kissing Bucky once more, gently, earnestly, trying to make him understand. He would never mean to hurt him. 

"Rogers, Barnes." A voice barked sharply, and Steve yanked back, his stomach suddenly turning sour. Bucky stared, a look of nauseous horror on his face as one of their superiors stalked down the length of the building towards them, face contorted with disgust. "What the  _hell_  do you think you’re doing?” He demanded, shoving Bucky roughly back, forcing distance between the two of them. The man turned aggressively on Steve, barring his teeth like a rabid dog. His gaze dropped the the black grease on Steve’s hands. The smudges on Bucky’s face and neck, as well as the oily swatch of his hair seemed to be more than enough evidence in addition to what he’d already seen. 

"Disgusting." He spat, his lips curled in revulsion as he turned, leering down at Bucky. "Disgraceful." Their superior stared them down, the look of hateful disgust on his face enough to turn both men’s stomaches. "I’m sure Captain Heshner will be very interested to hear of your repulsive display." He snarled, a cruelly victorious smirk curling the man’s lips. "Follow me,  _gentlemen.”_


	7. Chapter 7

Attention had never felt so ridged. The two men stood in front of their commanding officer’s desk, hands at their sides, chin’s raised, eye’s straight ahead. The other officer stood off to the side of Captain Heshner, explaining, in detail, the repulsive nature of their display. His words were sharp, and biting, the language his chose feeling like a slap to the face. Simply explaining what he had seen would have been enough, but the officer felt inclined to include his thoughts on the matter, on what should be done…how they should be punished.

Steve stood, eye’s ahead, jaw locked. Every so often, out of the corner of his eye, he would see Bucky trying to catch his gaze. He looked scared…sick…angry…everything that was coursing through Steve’s mind at the exact same moment. His heart was pounding in his chest. No way out now.

He didn’t know for sure weather or not Captain Heshner knew of his mission. At this time though, Steve would rather take the fall with Bucky, then to have the man he loved punished for both of their actions. Frankly, he would rather take the fall _for_ him. Bucky didn’t deserve this, not at all. If Captain Heshner could somehow be convinced that _he_ was to blame…but no. The commander had seen what he had, and there was no denying that Bucky had had a hand in it.

Captain Heshner rose slowly to his feet, studying the two sailors in front of him. His face was cold, and impassive as he took in the physical evidence, but that mask didn’t reach his eyes. There was a look of deep disgust and disappointment there as he considered the smudges of black grease on Bucky’s face and neck. He grabbed Bucky’s wrist silently, turning over his hand to see similar smudges on his palm from when Bucky had taken Steve’s hand to lead him across the grounds. 

Bucky winced slightly, his commanding officer’s grip unnecessarily tight around the thin bones of his wrist. His heart was racing, and it was honestly all he could do to keep from throwing up on his superior’s expensive black shoes. How could this have happened? They had been so carful! No one should have been around…and now what? They were going to loose everything? Just like that?

He dropped Bucky’s wrist, still silent, still studying them critically, seeming to be deciding the best deathblow. He paced around behind them, taking in with a slightly curled lip, the traces of black left behind on the back of Steve’s neck and between his shoulder blade’s where Bucky’s hands had rested. 

Captain Heshner stopped in front of them, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. He held Bucky’s gaze fiercely until the dark haired man dropped his eyes away, and then he turned to Steve. 

"Well done Rogers." He said cooly. Steve’s stomach dropped, Bucky breaking attention to stare at him, confusion written on his features. "You took longer than expected, but I trust that any inconveniences you ran into will be covered in your report. Dismissed."

"Sir," Steve began aggressively, stepping forward, but Hesher raised a hand sharply. 

"Any details can be covered later Rogers, I have other problems to deal with right now." He said, gesturing vaguely at Bucky...a problem...that was all he was. A man who had worked so hard to be there, who'd left his home and his friends behind to help fight this war...and he was reduced to a _problem._  "Dismissed." He snapped. The look in Steve’s eyes was purely insubordinate. Heshner turned to the other officer. "Commander, show Seaman Rogers out." 

The commander seized Steve’s upper arm in a death grip. There was something purely malicious about the commander. Even knowing now that Steve was not the one that the Captain was displeased with, there was still an air of scorn surrounding him as he engaged Steve. “Come along Seaman.” He said, that cruel smirk pulling at his mouth as he sensed his subordinates desperation. 

For one, horrible moment, Bucky’s wide eyes met Steve’s as he was pulled from the room. There was a look of sickening realization there. All the color had drained from Bucky’s face, his skin taking on a grayish pallor as his jaw dropped in horror. His chest heaved as he whipped around, briefly looking at the captain, as though seeking an answer there, before turning back to Steve. All the hope, and affection, and adoration that always reflected so clearly in his eyes had gone. It was replaced now with a look of nauseous dread, the realization that, again, it hadn’t been real, and his time, he was going to pay for it. 

The last thing Steve saw before the door was closed in his face, was the last ounce of trust leaving Bucky’s eyes; turned cold, and replaced with hate. 


	8. Chapter 8

Steve’s trembling hands made a mess of the engine he had been set back to fixing. But nonetheless, he had to stay, bent over his work, until the commander moved on. Steve kept his smarting eyes locked on the engine, not trusting himself to meet his superior’s gaze. If he did, he’d do something he’d certainly regret. 

Finally the man moved on, snidely congratulating him on the success of his task as he walked away. The moment he was out of earshot, Steve slammed the hood of the jeep down, the vehicle jostling under the forced of the impact. Strings of angry curses hissed between Steve’s clenched teeth as he paced madly back and forth, gripping his soiled hands through his hair. The anger that laced his words grew uncertain as his voice broke, the obscenities coming out now as a cracked whisper. 

He had been too afraid of loosing Bucky to tell him, and now just that had torn him away. Even if Bucky _wasn’t_ seriously punished, he’d never _trust_ him…not after this…

Steve’s incessant pacing eventually took him back over to the door of the Captain’s office. It was still closed, although indistinct voices could be heard inside. He knew he couldn’t go in, he’d probably be Court Marshaled if he did, but he could be there when Bucky came out. It wasn’t too late, he lied to himself, Bucky could still love him. He could fix this…he had too…

His hands wouldn’t still. His heart rate wouldn’t settle. There was no calming the sickening knot in the pit of his stomach. He’d done this. It was his fault, and Bucky was going to pay for it. 

The door to the captain’s office swung open, hitting the railing behind it with a crash that jarred the building. Steve startled at the noise, wheeling around to see Bucky, already out the door, stalking towards the barracks. 

"Bucky!" He called desperately, his voice cracking as he grabbed at his arm. Bucky yanked out of his reach, the movement aggressive, resonating hate and betrayal. He continued towards the barracks, jaw locked, eyes lowered. His body was trembling. "Please," Steve begged. "Talk to me."

Bucky wheeled around, his clenched fist connecting forcefully with Steve’s jaw, the impact knocking Steve to the ground, ears ringing. He stood over him, shaking, teeth bared, eyes red with tears that he was only now allowing to show.  ”Leave. Me.  _Alone.”_ He rasped, his voice weak, and broken. 

 Steve managed to push himself up onto his elbows, his vision still unclear from the hit, pain throbbing across the left side of his face. “Bucky,” He choked thickly, blinking hard and staring up at him; desperate, pleading. “I didn’t…I didn’t use you…” He panted.

Bucky shook his head, setting his jaw, his lips pressed into a thin line. “No.” He said huskily, the word cut off before it had hardly escaped his lips. “No. No you didn’t…” He stared down at Steve, his eyes livid with pain. “I’ve been used before,  _'used'_ I can handle, this…” His words caught in his throat, the sentence breaking off with a crack. Bucky clapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes squeezing closed as he drew in a deep breath through his nose. The trembling hand lowered, and he blinked hard to clear the moisture from his vision. “That wasn’t _using_ me, that was  _cruelty_ ….” He whispered, the words almost escaping Steve as he pushed himself to his feet. 

 Bucky stood there, trying to pull all of his broken pieces together for just a few minutes more. “You knew…” He rasped, suddenly wheeling on Steve again, the blond haired man flinching in preparation for another punch. “You  _knew_!” He accused, his lip curling in disgust as he stared at the man he had wanted more than anything. “From the second day we met you _knew_! You knew I liked you…why did you wait?!” He demanded, his voice rising to a heartbroken cry. “Why didn’t you just turn me in then? I had told you I liked guys, hell, I’d told you I like _you!_ Why-” Bucky’s voice broke again and he swallowed hard, again, passing his shaking hand over his mouth. 

 “ _You_ …strung me along for  _weeks_.  _You_ …you let me love you, you made me believe that- Do you have any idea ho-how…”Bucky turned away from his sharply, running his sleeve over his eyes. 

 Steve had become speechless in the face of Bucky’s rage. It had been all he could do to pull himself up off the ground. And he let Bucky talk, because every accusation, every cutting comment that Bucky lashed at him…he deserved all of them.

Bucky sniffed, drawing in a rattling breath. He looked like he was barley holding it together, like he would start falling to pieces at the slightest gust of wind. He turned, slowly this time, his movements overly controlled, like if he let go of that little ounce of control left to him he’d break. “I” He started, the words trembling with rage, “Have received a dishonorable discharge.” Bucky hissed through gritted teeth, his careful control beginning to loosen and slip away for him. A bitter laugh escaped his lips, his eyes going cold and sarcastic. “And for what?! For loving  _you_.” He spat, the tone in his voice so close to pure hatred that Steve wished he could die. It would be less painful, and Bucky would be a lot better off. 

 "I never meant for this to happen…" Steve said weakly, "Please…"

Bucky met his pleading gaze, his eyes locking with Steve’s. He’d fallen in love with those eyes. He had told himself that they were honest. He had told himself that he had seen no lie in them when Steve told him he loved him. Bucky’s chest tightened and he looked away, his expression twisting with pain. 

 "I have packing to do." Bucky hissed coldly. "Isn’t there somewhere you should be,  _Seaman Rogers_?”

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

That was it. He was gone.

Bucky had been deported that afternoon, not even looking at Steve as he boarded the PT boat that would take him away. Word had gone around the base as to why Seaman Barnes was deported. The only sailors who showed up to see him off where those who were only interested in mocking him. Them...and Steve. 

Again, Steve had tried to talk to him, but either his voice had been lost among the jeering, crass calls of the sailors, or he had chosen to ignore him. Steve wasn't sure which hurt worse, knowing Bucky had shut him out, or being  _so_ close to reaching him, and being drown out by those who intentions really  _were_  to hurt him. 

Whatever the reason, Bucky had pushed through the sailors, being jostled, shoved, and pulled this way and that as he drug his baggage up the ramp. Someone threw a rock, although thankfully, it glanced off his trunk, which Steve could now see had crude remarks and slurs graffitied and scratched onto it's surface. 

The group of sailors was dense, and restless, and no amount of shoving or elbowing could get Steve close to the dock. He had just forced his way between the shoulder's of two broad men when the PT boat pulled away, drifting further out to sea the closer Steve got to the shore. 

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The barracks were empty, Bucky's cot particularly so. The other men were out on leave. Steve had elected to stay, after all, what was the point? He certainly wouldn't be going out dancing. Instead, he was standing in the barracks, the cold, gray wood flooring beneath his feet.

How could this particular cot be empty now? How could it be empty when Steve and Bucky had snuck off here between jobs or patrols? How could it be empty when he'd lain on it, Bucky's hot body pressing against his own, his lips so soft against him? They'd caught catnaps here, talked here for hours, kissed, touched, shared secrets. How could it be empty now? How could  _he_ have let its owner be taken away from him?

It had been his own fault, there was no doubting that. He should have told him...Now he stood in front of the seemingly insignificant cot that was so much more than just a place to rest at night. He stood, staring at Bucky's bed and the scatter few possessions he had left behind.

There wasn't much. A flask, a discarded, torn open envelope with no letter inside, a handful of coins, one sock, and a earthy green tie. Steve had collected these few outcasts into a little pile on the edge of the cot, his stomach sinking as he realized that this was all he had left of Bucky; all he'd ever have of him. 

A knot began to form in Steve's throat and he tried to swallow it back. Hopeless. It felt like a rock lodged in his throat; He couldn't speak, he couldn't breath. Suddenly, everything that Steve had pent up inside of him since he had lost Bucky, since he'd been taken from him, strained for release. It had been developing since the second the commander had caught the two of them behind the building, shattering a moment that was supposed to be private and secret, and dragging it out for the entire base to see.

Bucky had taken the brunt of the ridicule. He had been cursed at, mocked, and called repulsive things. He had had his possessions vandalized, and his safety put at risk. For the most part, word had also spread around the base of Steve's task. Bucky had faced the worst possible punishment for the simple crime of loving someone, and Steve bore the guilt.

The other sailors didn't help. It seemed that every time he stepped outside, someone was prying into the affair. 'Why did it take you so long?' 'Did he touch you?''did he want to have sex with you?' The questions were invasive, and never ending, and all of them made Bucky out to be some kind of pervert, a lowlife with no self-control, and no desire for anything beyond the physical. It was disgusting, sometimes taking everything in Steve not to punch out anyone who so much as dared to bring up Bucky to him.  

But now, they were all gone. The base was all but deserted, and there was no one left to jab at his broken heart with pointless, prying questions that stigmatized the man he loved...the man he  _still_  loved...The man who no longer loved him. 

He reached out, slowly lifting the olive-toned tie from where he had laid it on the cot, his finger's twisting around it. He brought it up to his face, lips pressing softly to the material, breathing in the faint scent of Bucky's cologne, still trapped in the fibers of the tie. Steve's grip tightened, his throat aching as he tried to hold back the sob that was building in his body, filling him, trapped in only by his tightly closed lips. 

Finally, alone in the barracks, Steve allowed the bitter sob to tear from his aching throat. Tears traced narrow trails down his cheeks, dampening the fabric of the tie, still clutched in his shaking hand.

Steve had never cried so hard in his life. His entire body hurt, his throat feeling as though it had been burnt inside and out. Clear vision was a thing of the past, because it seemed as though the tears would never stop. Eventually, his legs went numb and he sunk helplessly to the edge of the cot, doubled over in his misery.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Hours later, the men began returning from leave. Trickling in, a few at a time, for once, minding their own business. Steve had quelled the sobs that had wracked his miserable body, and though the tears had ceased, agony still plagued him. What he wouldn't give to finally feel numb, to sit there, and even for a few moment, not feel anything. But numbness wouldn't come. Not ever. And that's when Steve decided; something had to be done.

 


	10. Chapter 10

It had been a very long two months since Bucky had been discharged from the navy. He lived alone now, in a small, cramped flat in Brooklyn. One of the few friends who had stayed in contact with him after his return had asked if life after the navy was difficult. And Bucky had to be honest; the answer was no.

It wasn’t life after the navy that had him shut away. It wasn’t life after the navy that had him searching for solace at the bottom of a vodka bottle. It was life after Steve…knowing he hadn’t really loved him. It was life after Steve had toyed around with a heart that he had already known was fragile, and then threw him to the monsters of the world, and let them tear him apart while he’d walked away unscathed. 

He tried to run from his memories of the blond-haired man, tried to shut them out, never think of them again. But nothing worked. Bucky threw himself into his work at the docks, he drank himself into a stupor at night and fought through the hangover the next day. He had tried shutting himself away. He’d tried flirting with anyone he met. He’d had a drunken one night stand with a man who’s face he couldn’t even remember because all he could think of was Steve. 

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Sundays were hard. He didn’t have work, and seldom felt like going out, but the day, alone in the flat, was pure torment. Bucky’s slender, pale finger’s wrapped around the neck of a bottle, the alcohol sloshing around in the bottle. His head was buzzing already…maybe he could drink enough to pass out…

The dark haired man had just raised the bottle to his wet lips when a knock on his door startled him. He startled abruptly, on his feet before he had hardly registered the sound. Bucky drew in a steadying breath, allowing his heart-rate to settle. Loud noised startled him now…it was something he was trying to work though. 

The heavy bottle clunked down on the uneven coffee table as Bucky stepped around his threadbare couch to the door. He wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, but at least he’d see who it was. Bucky gripped the door-knob reluctantly, giving it a twist, and a jerk to dislodge it from it’s sticking point. His eyes raised to his guest, and Bucky’s blood ran cold. 

Steve stood on his doorstep, looking weary, and exhausted. His nose had a bent to it that had not been there the last time Bucky had seen him and there was a fresh looking scar on his lip, but other than that, he looked just the same. He looked just the same as he looked every time Bucky closed his eyes. 

The dark-haired man’s eyes widened with a mixture of alarm, and horror, still too stunned to feel the hatred that had boiled in his chest for so long. Unconsciously, he took a step backwards, half wondering if he’d finally lost it, because there was  _no way_  Steve could be here. A tiny, sad smile pulled at Steve’s lips.

 

"Hey Bucky…" He said quietly, the look on the other man’s face sending a stab of pain through his chest. He had fought with the decision to come here, knowing Bucky wouldn’t react well. He knew he couldn’t expect Bucky to hug him, tell him he missed him, or even be willing to listen, but still…Steve would have lived in torment if he didn’t try.

"What are you doing here? How did you find me?" Bucky demanded, trying to sound aggressive, but the words came out weak, stunned, and almost fearful. 

Steve dropped his gaze, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a wrinkled rectangle of paper. An envelope, Bucky realized, a worn, torn open envelope with no letter inside.  ”I didn’t.” Steve explained, holding the paper out to him. “I found the person who wrote you…He told me where to find you…”

Bucky took the envelope carefully, not sure he wanted to receive  _anything_  from Steve, not even a piece of paper. As the shock of seeing the face he’d once loved so much worn off, the anger began to replace it, and Bucky found his fingers gripping tightly into the doorframe.

 

"You didn’t answer my first question." Bucky said shortly, feeling his chest constrict with hate. " _What_ are you  _doing_ here.” He spat, now braced, blocking the doorway. How  _dare_ he come back here! After everything he’d done, after leading him on, making him love him; after turning him over…after not even being there when he was being shipped off…How  _DARE_  he!

 

Steve licked his lips slowly, his chest aching as he saw the look of loathing that was being to re-enter Bucky’s eyes. “I…just had to see you…” He said, and it was the simplest, most honest thing Steve could think to say. How could he stay away?

Bucky froze, the words not registering in his mind for a few moments. He blinked rapidly, and then swallowed back his confusion. No. He wasn’t going to be reel in again. 

"Won’t they be missing you on the base?" He accused coldly. "After all, you have a lot of  _very_ important jobs to do.” Bucky knew he couldn’t let it show, but his anger was giving way to hurt. He didn’t want to scream at Steve, or hit him, not anymore. He wanted to sob into his chest, beg for answers, ask him why he’d done this to him. But he couldn’t.

 

Bucky had lived his whole life with an unarmored heart, and it had taken more wounds than he’d like to think about, but this last one had been too much. Bucky had taken the fragile, trusting heart, and boxed it up, stashing it away where no one could touch it, and no one could hurt it. 

Steve drew in an uncertain breath, again, pulling a slip of paper out of his pocket and handing it to Bucky. “I’ve received a dishonorable discharge.” He said simply, the words hitting Bucky like a punch to the heart as he took the evidence in his hands, the envelope fluttering to the ground. 

"For what?" Bucky asked, trying his best to sound indifferent. 

"For loving you…" 

Bucky’s finger’s tightened on the paper, his body suddenly going hot. “You’re lying…” He hissed, unable now to hide the tremor in his voice. 

Steve wet his lips, a scoff escaping him. “Nope.” He said simply, gently freeing the paper from Bucky’s fingers and tucking it away again. “I fessed up to Captain Heshner a week after you were deported. I’ve been looking for you since then…Took me a little longer than I thought it would to find you…I’m sorry…” He said, his voice quiet, and apologetic. He knew that there was so much more apologizing he needed to do, and for far more than just not finding him sooner.

"Can I come in? Please?" Steve asked, seeing the haunted look on Bucky’s face. He was angry, and hurt. He didn’t believe him, and he didn’t trust him, but if Steve could get him to listen for just a few minutes longer then just maybe, some of the damage could yet be undone. 

 


	11. Chapter 11

_The light was dim below the deck of the PT boat Steve was doing a little routine maintenance on. Work didn’t take his mind of of Bucky, but nothing did, so why not? His only companion was one other sailor, who was busy scrubbing the floor a little ways away._

_"Heard about that mission of yours, nasty business." He commented absently, and Steve’s finger’s tightened on the wrench. He drew in a deep breath through the nose, relaxing his grip and setting back to work. He had become an expert at pretending he didn’t hear people._

_The other sailor gave a little snort of laughter. “I also caught on to how Commander Lessure found you two,_ that  _must have been uncomfortable.” Steve bit his tongue, a devastating reply forming on his lips before the man continued, running over the start of Steve’s sentence. “Although, all things considered, you should just be glad that you weren’t alone with him for any longer than you were.”_

_Steve froze, his blood going cold. The blond haired man rose to his feet, turning slowly to face the other sailor. “I’m sorry.” He said tightly. “I don’t quite grasp your meaning.”_

_The man shrugged absently, but a smirk played on his lips, like they were sharing an inside joke. “Oh y’know, fags like him get grabby. He could have gotten his hands in all kinds of places you didn’t want them if he got you alone for too long.”_

_That was it. Steve stalked across the lower deck, the metal plates rattling beneath his feet. The wrench swung by his side, clutched in a white knuckled grip._

_"You’re kinda quiet over there. If I didn’t know better I’d…say…" The sailor faltered as Steve approached him, and even an idiot like him could see the fury in Steve’s eyes. His face went a little paler and he eased back a pace, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Look man, if something happened, if it’s a sore subject we can drop it, I was just saying-"_

_Steve swung the wrench, the metal tool, smashing it into the man’s gut, driving the air from his lungs. He crashed back against one of the ship’s support poles, trying to drag air into his stunned lungs. Steve let the wrench clatter the the floor as he grabbed the man by the front of the shirt, the sailor’s mouth still gapping like a fish out of water._

_"Don’t_ ever _say anything that stupid again.” Steve snarled, his face mere inches from the other man’s face, before he pulled back, and punched him square in the nose._

_.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-._

Steve stared at Bucky, who sat across the room from him, a stone-cold mug of coffee in his hands. Steve had only managed a few swallows of his own before he had to set it aside. 

Thinking back to his last days on the base before deportation had not been pleasant. In those few days, he’d gotten into more fistfights, been more bruised, and ridiculed and scorned that he ever had in his entire life. He had received death-threats, split lips, sprained wrists, bruises and a broken nose. He had thought he understood what Bucky had been through, but before then, he’d really known nothing at all. Now he did. Now he understood how his decisions had affected the man he loved. 

Bucky’s expression was closed now. He was staring at Steve, but his face betrayed no emotion. “You turned yourself in.” He stated, voice monotone and unfeeling. There was no way for Steve to read what was going on in his usually expressive face. 

He licked his lips, nodding. “Yep. I mean…I’d gotten into a fight with one of the other sailors…hit him with a wrench…I figured, while I was already in the Captain’s office I’d come clean.”

"You knew he’d discharge you."

"Who’s to say I didn’t want that?" Steve asked, meeting Bucky’s gaze evenly. Something shifted in Bucky’s impenetrable shell, nothing Steve could put a finger on, but he felt like he was really  _looking_ at him now. He exhaled slowly, reaching up to rub the bridge of his now slightly crooked nose. “They were saying awful things about you Buck….” He murmured huskily. “I couldn’t…I couldn’t stay there and pretend it didn’t bother me…pretend I didn’t want to smash their faces in  every time they said things about you, assumed things that they had no idea about…I just couldn’t.” 

"Why did you do it?" Bucky asked simply, and Steve knew that this had nothing to do with his discharge. Bucky wanted to know why he had hurt him. 

"Buck…" Steve drew in a deep breath. "I’m not going to make excuses for myself. I’m not going to make myself out to be the victim here. These are just facts…I was afraid to turn down the job. I thought if I did, they’d go poking around, figure out that I was Bi…I was afraid of getting discharged." He licked his lips hesitantly, still unable to tell when Bucky was thinking behind his stony mask. 

"I told myself that I was going to find a way to convince them I was doing my job without turning anyone in. I didn’t want to do that to  _anyone…_ And then I met you…” He said slowly, standing up and daring to walk a little closer to him. “…and I fell in love with you…”

Bucky’s mask wavered, cracking slightly as an unnamed emotion flickered behind his eyes. He rose from his chair, instinctively backing away a pace, still watching Steve with a guarded expression on his face.

"Bucky…I swear…I’m not lying to you. I was a coward, and an idiot, but I wasn’t lying when I told you that I loved you…"  A heavy pause hung between them, and Steve felt his palms growing sweaty. His heart was speeding up in his chest, everything in him wanting to hold Bucky to his chest, and prove to him that he loved him. But he couldn’t. Not yet. 

"I still love you." He said softly. "I couldn’t bear the thought of loosing you…it why I never told you, I thought…I thought you’d leave. "

Bucky’s brows drew together in a deep frown. “You don’t think I was in love with you too?” He asked, his voice more hurt than accusing. “I would have gone through  _hell_  to be with you! And you think  _that_  would have scared me off?” It was a demand now, as he stepped towards Steve, a completely new form of anger flaring in his chest. “God Steve!” He scoffed, “I-You-You should have told me, Dammit!” He snapped. “How the hell and I supposed to believe what your saying if you didn’t even…if you did-” Bucky choked on his words, a sob abruptly tearing from his throat and he leaned forward, pressing into Steve’s chest, his body trembling.

"Hey," Steve whispered softly, his voice low and comforting. "Hey, it’s alright…It’s okay…I’m here…I’ve got you…" He wrapped his arms around Bucky’s trembling shoulders, pulling him in close, breathing in the scent of his hair, feeling him shaking beneath his palms. 

Bucky’s leaning into the touch, his hands balled into fist against Steve’s chest, huge, bitter sobs wracking his body. There was too much to handle right now, too much anger, and fear, too much confusion, loneliness and pain; and, despite everything he’d tried to do, a tiny amount of hope. 

Steve hushed him gently, rocking slowly back and forth, his hands combing through Bucky’s hair. Feeling the misery in Bucky’s sobs made Steve’s heart ache. The guilt that wracked him refused to cease, even now that he had Bucky here in his arms. He had so much to make up for…

The blond haired man softly moved his hands down to Bucky’s jawline, tipping up his face and resting his forehead to his. “Shhh….I’m here…I’m here, it’ll be alright…” Bucky’s sobs caught in his throat, and he drew in a shuddering breath. Steve brushed his thumb across the other man’s wet cheek, swiping away the moisture, murmuring comforting things under his breath. 

Bucky’s breathing began to even out, his gulps subsiding to little, shuddering gasps, and then finally, falling back to an almost normal breathing pattern. 

"Bucky…" He murmured, his nose brushing softly against his. "I’m not giving up on you…I’m going to fix this…" Steve promised, his fingers absently twisting through his dark hair. 

"I don’t trust you." Bucky whispered, the words passing intimately between them, the space between their lips mere millimeters. 

"I know…I know, I’m sorry…I’m so,  _so_ sorry Bucky…Please…let me fix this…” 

"You’ll hurt me…" 

The words pierced through Steve’s heart like ice, and he felt his throat constrict with pain. His finger’s tightened slightly in Bucky’s hair and he drew him closer, holding the fragile man close to him. “Never again…” He whispered, voice cracking. “I promise Bucky…I’m never going to hurt you again…” 

Steve knew that this was going to take a long time, maybe forever, but forever was what he was willing to give. There was no telling how long it would take for Steve to be able to find that shelf in the back of Bucky’s mind, and dust off the box in which he’d locked his bleeding heart. But Steve would do what ever it took, no matter how long, to pry open that box, and hold in his hands the broken heart of the man he loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sequel to Reluctant Endeavors is up! Part Two: One Word Answers, can be found here ---> http://archiveofourown.org/works/2467229/chapters/5470778


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